


man standing in art exhibit (acrylic on canvas)

by plantyourtreeswithme



Category: Gandrew - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, Museum Curator/Artist Garrett Watts, Novelist Andrew Siwicki, gandrew - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25476070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantyourtreeswithme/pseuds/plantyourtreeswithme
Summary: Desperate for inspiration, Andrew pays a visit to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.
Relationships: Andrew Siwicki/Garrett Watts
Comments: 13
Kudos: 44





	man standing in art exhibit (acrylic on canvas)

**Author's Note:**

> Just an FYI - I recommend reading on a computer, not a phone, as the formatting of the transitions between passages looks very odd on mobile. (It won’t totally ruin your experience, but... humor me and my perfectionist heart.)

___________________________________________________________________  
  
**Garrett Watts** (b. 1989)   
**_Man Standing in Art Exhibit,_** 2016   
Acrylic on canvas   
  
Said to be a depiction of Watts' husband on the day they met  
2025.125   
____________________________________________________________________

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Andrew turns around, confusion and embarrassment rushing in his ears, and sees a very tall man standing before him. Besides his frankly ridiculous stature, Andrew immediately characterizes him by his Harry Potter-ish, golden-rimmed glasses - which can't even hold a candle to his lovely, thick head of flaxen hair, slicked back like a 1920s businessman's and perfectly parted.

The author in Andrew wants to make this man the protagonist of all his books, as his eyes rake over the tightness of his button-up shirt, the definition of his arms beneath his suit jacket. He is already becoming the love interest in Andrew's own narrative.

And he doesn't even know his name.

"I'm so sorry," he finally blurts out, remembering he owes him a response. "I, um... I... can I ask why? I didn't think I'd done anything wrong -"

"Photography of the art is not permitted," the man tells him, with attempted stoniness. He lets out a tiny snicker, and despite his mortification, Andrew can't help but smile, too.

He squints closely at the name tag pinned to his blazer - _'Garrett Watts, Museum Curator'_ \- and says, "Well, Mr. Watts, I was actually taking a picture of _myself_."

"Mmhmm," the curator says, putting on an air of utmost seriousness. "The most priceless and beautiful piece in the entire museum, don't you think?"

A hapless giggle escapes Andrew's mouth, and he feels himself blushing bright red. "That's," he squeaks, very embarrassed. "That's so cheesy, oh my god."

"Aww," Garrett Watts says, "did it not work?" I thought for sure -"

"Of course it worked," Andrew laughs. "I - I'm Andrew."

"I'm Garrett, nice to meet you." He offers Andrew his hand, thrillingly warm under the exhibition lights. "Sorry for whatever that was; you're just really, really handsome. And I thought it was really cute of you to take a picture in front of that particular painting."

Andrew tracks his line of sight over to the ostentatious frame hung behind him. The lovely glow of the pink and blue acrylics, of the ships setting sail at dawn, sends a wonderful heat thrumming through his body - all the way from the tips of his toes to the chambers of his heart. It instills him with some bold dosage of liquid courage; enough for him to say, "Tell me more about it over coffee?"

Garrett's mouth falls open in a look of gleeful shock, like he didn't expect to get this far, and Andrew almost regrets being so forward - but then he says excitedly, "I'm off in thirty minutes," and puts his number in Andrew's phone.

___________________________________________________________________  
  
**Garrett Watts** (b. 1989)   
**_Coffee Grounds at Bottom of Mug,_** 2017   
Oil on canvas   
  
Described by Watts to be a "conglomeration of cafés" that he  
and his now-husband enjoyed exploring in the Los Angeles  
area   
2025.172   
____________________________________________________________________

"Okay. I think you're right."

Andrew swallows the large sip he's just taken before exploding into giggles, the whole café bursting with the sound.

"Don't laugh at me!" Garrett whines, though he's chuckling himself. "It's not my fault I'm always stuck at work."

"I know," Andrew sniggers, "it's just - just the fact that it took you _this long_ to admit it -"

"Admit what, Andrew?!" Garrett says in mock outrage. Andrew swears his voice just jumped two octaves. "That all the other places we've been to have infinitely better coffee than the museum cafeteria?"

Andrew's already laughing too hard to reply, his breath coming short. Garrett sits across from him and grins broadly, extremely pleased with himself.

"This is so cute, though," his boyfriend says once their laughter has quelled. "Real hole-in-the-wall place. How'd you find it?"

Andrew clears his throat, says, "I used to come here all the time when I had writer's block. People-watching really helps get the words out."

"Yeah?" Garrett picks up his mug and drinks from it. Andrew marvels at how tiny the cup is in his hands. He's already memorized Garrett's order - blonde roast, two percent milk, three packets of Splenda (ridiculous) - for no reason in particular. (He hopes, maybe, he'll be allowed to make it for him in the privacy of their own home someday.)

"Had any issues getting those thoughts of yours out lately, Siwicki?" Garrett asks, slightly breathless from gulping down his searing coffee. Andrew watches, smiles to himself as his Adam's apple bobs slightly when he swallows.

"No," he says - slowly, contemplatively. "I think your exhibit somehow fixed that."

Coffee Bean's windows let the summer sun slide like warm bathwater over their skin, but it can't even compare to the glow of Garrett's smile.

___________________________________________________________________  
  
**Garrett Watts** (b. 1989)   
**_Morning Light,_** 2022   
Pastel on paper   
  
"A study of dawn, and all the colors that accompany it" (Watts).  
Inspired by a Turner of two ships, setting sail at sunrise   
2025.204   
____________________________________________________________________

"I'd really like to have my own exhibit someday, you know," Garrett murmurs, half-asleep.

"Yeah?" Andrew says softly. Garrett's broad, bare chest is impossibly warm under his hands, under the cold chill of October night. In a few hours, Garrett will get up and dress in one of his suits for work - maybe that navy blue one Andrew's so fond of, or perhaps the emerald green. Andrew will put the kettle on and make eggs for them both, and then go for his morning run. When he gets back, he'll shower and pull on his favorite cardigan, and then drive out to the nearby park to sit on a bench and write.

But that is in a few hours. "Don't think I'm good enough," comes Garrett's weary reply now, soaked with near-sleep.

"Hey," Andrew says. He moves up onto his elbows and pokes at Garrett's side where he's ticklish - nudges Garrett's shoulder with his nose. "Don't be ridiculous. You're so, _so_ talented, Garr. You've already had a couple showings; people know how good -"

"I mean, like, in _my_ museum," Garrett tells him. His eyes meet Andrew's, wait for his reaction. He is giving Andrew this secret, this most hidden part of himself; like a child declaring his brightest dreams, his biggest aspirations to the world. Andrew thinks of the first time he told his father he wanted to be an author; how crushed he felt when he was met with, _"That's not a real career, Drew. You'll never make any money that way."_

"You don't think that's realistic?" Andrew asks, warding off his exhaustion for the umpteenth time tonight. "Like, you really don't think that's attainable? Because I think you definitely could, Garr - I mean, you've already got connections there and everything, and if you talked to Caleb about getting donors, you -"

Garrett nearly pushes Andrew off the bed in his haste to pull him into a bone-crushing hug. Andrew expects him to speak, but he doesn't say a word.

The sun breaks through the curtains, pools over their tired faces, and they fall asleep in each other's arms.

In the morning, over breakfast, Garrett looks up at him from across the kitchen table and says, "Do you think you'll marry me?"

___________________________________________________________________  
  
**Garrett Watts** (b. 1989)   
**_Ink Stains on Pages,_** 2024   
Ink and glass on illustration board   
  
Gift for Watts' mother-in-law; a rendering of her son,   
supposedly working on the first draft of his critically acclaimed  
science fiction novel, _Setting Sail from Epsilon_  
2025.241   
____________________________________________________________________

"Oh, my god, Garrett, _look_ ," Andrew gushes. He tears open the cardboard box and shows Garrett the book - _his book,_ three hundred and four published pages of his words, his mind, himself. He can't really tell if the cover is shining because of its glossy finish, or because of the tears welling in his eyes.

Garrett leans against his back, and Andrew twists around in his lap to frame his face with his hands, the novel forgotten on the floor. His engagement ring clinks against the frames of Garrett's glasses as he kisses him.

"I'm so proud of you," Garrett whispers when they come up for air. "I love you."

"I would never have written this if I hadn't met you," Andrew rambles, his breath coming short. He can feel the tears on his cheeks now - tributaries wearing out canyons over the course of centuries. He is a cliff face, and Garrett a river. He is water dashed against stone, and Garrett is his rock.

"Why don't you read it to me?" Garrett asks. He wipes at Andrew's face with his thumbs.

"Garrett, I - you've heard this so many times, you must be sick of it -"

"Read it again," his fiancé says. "I'll never get tired of your writing. Never."

___________________________________________________________________  
  
**Garrett Watts** (b. 1989)   
_**Man Standing in Art Exhibit,**_ 2025   
Watercolor on paper   
  
Commission specifically for Watts' 2025 exhibit, "Photography  
of the Art is Not Permitted"   
2025.289   
____________________________________________________________________

"Excuse me, sirs. And, um, ma'am."

Andrew's mom turns, camera in hand, to look at the security guard who's just addressed them. "Yes?" she says, irritated at having been interrupted.

"Mom, it's okay," Andrew tries to tell her, embarrassment tinging his cheeks. Garrett squeezes his waist jovially, and he immediately calms.

"Um," the man says. "I'm very sorry, but flash photography isn't allowed in front of the artwork."

Garrett glances at the eight foot tall watercolor piece behind them. "I painted this," he says. "Big deal."

"Thanks for promoting the exhibit, though," Andrew grins, and Garrett wraps his arm around him for the picture again. The guard blinks, befuddled, and chooses to leave them alone.

"Are we still hiring idiots here?" Garrett mutters under his breath as Andrew adjusts his husband's bowtie. "I thought I was the last one."

"Just shut up and smile," Andrew tells him, as his mother says, "Say cheese, boys!" and the camera clicks several thousand times.

They lean against one of the marble pillars - once Garrett's finished shaking hands and signing autographs - and flick through the photos. "Oh, _this_ one's going on my Twitter," Garrett says, stopping to zoom in on Andrew's closed, blinking eyes. "Look at that beautiful resting bitch face. The man I married, ladies and gentlemen."

Andrew's shout of laughter rings through the gallery, and Garrett looks at him like it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so fun to write! If you'd like me to write more for this AU, please feel encouraged to [donate to BLM and send me proof of your donation to "commission" me](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Gandrew_Fans_for_BLM/profile)!
> 
> BTW, in case you couldn't tell - the little "boxes" with descriptions of Garrett's paintings in between passages are meant to be museum placards!
> 
> As always, you can find me [here](https://cherryblossomwatts.tumblr.com) on Tumblr - and if you enjoyed this piece, please let me know what you liked about it in the comments!


End file.
